


Memorial

by baja_king



Category: Hogan's Heroes
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-28
Updated: 2019-05-28
Packaged: 2020-03-20 17:11:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 710
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18996961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/baja_king/pseuds/baja_king
Summary: April 6, 1995: fifty years after the camp's liberation, the team visits Stalag 13 one last time.





	Memorial

_Thursday, April 6, 1995 Golden Anniversary_

A luxury tour bus pulled into the abandoned compound.  Two guard towers remained standing while others long since disintegrated.  The fencing had been pilfered long ago during a metal crisis.  Buildings sat in disrepair.  Most of the windows were smashed.  The compound once saw visitors as indicated by placards describing various locations when it served as a museum in tribute to the Allied forces.

Hogan stepped off the bus and sighed.  His hand slightly trembled as he walked with the aid of a cane.  He looked around and saw ghosts from his past.  Klink stood on the porch of the Kommandantur just briefly before vanishing.  Guards patrolled with dogs.  A glimpse of a pristine compound before reality returned revealing weeds.

“Bloody hell,” swore Newkirk as he stepped off the bus.  “Time hasn’t been kind for this old dump.”

Hogan asked, “Are you sorry you came?”

“I only came because you asked me to,” replied Newkirk.

More men exited the bus, a ragtag collection of old men with various assistance devices including canes, glasses, walkers, and hearing aids.  The last time these men assembled on the compound, it was Friday, April 6, 1945 – liberation day.  Hogan briefly heard the sounds of tanks belonging to Combat Command B of the U.S. 14th Armored Division.

Several old friends could not make the journey due to their greatest enemy: time.  Schultz died years ago, as did Klink.  Fifty years was a long time.  Hogan had to see the place one more time before it suffered its final fate.  In another month, a local developer intended to raze it in the name of progress and build a mall.

LeBeau adjusted his glasses and asked, “Now what?”

“First, I just want to look around,” replied Hogan.

Kinchloe said, “That’s fine and good.  What we’re looking for is outside of the camp.”

“I know,” sighed Hogan.  “I hope we can find it.”

Carter said, “We’ll find it, sir.”

The men started looking around the old camp.  They remembered brief notoriety when a television special featured their operation.  Their tunnel system was so ingenious that the local proprietors did not discover it until ten years after the war.  The military decided enough time elapsed and declassified the operation, so the men gave interviews.  Locals operated the museum for another twenty years before disinterest combined with economics forced its abandonment.

Hogan needed to find it.  He walked outside of the camp and looked for the emergency tunnel.  While the old tree stump disintegrated long ago, a small placard and a trap door marked its place.  He felt extreme anguish when Wilson approached and said, “We’ll never find it.”

Wilson said, “We’ve got to, sir.”

“It was dark,” said Hogan.

“This way,” said Wilson.

It felt agonizing.  The topography changed over the years.  Trees were in the wrong position.  Movies portrayed woods as neat and orderly but nature disproved that lie.  A growing number of men joined up with Hogan.  Wilson seemed sure they were going in the correct direction.  Hogan tried not to stumble on old branches or other debris.

Something caught Hogan’s eye.  He rubbed his eyes and saw a German shepherd.  He called to it but it walked away.  He broke away from the group and followed the dog.  He realized it was a female dog and looked familiar.  Then he chastised himself.  How could he know this dog?  Obviously, it was someone’s escaped pet.  The dog circled tightly but not chasing its tail.  Then it sat on the ground and began howling.

Hogan said, “Hey, it’s okay.  I’m not going to hurt you.”  He turned around and called, “Hey guys!  Over here!”  When he looked back, he realized the dog disappeared.  He silently cursed, assuming his shouts scared it away.  He noticed a strange object in place of where the dog previously sat.  He crouched and started digging.

Carefully, Hogan lifted the green octagonal disc from the ground, and the cord remnants gave way.  He wiped away grime to reveal letters imprinted on the vulcanized asbestos fiber.  He ignored approaching footsteps and started a quiet prayer.  As men arrived, they lowered heads.  Hogan said, “Hercules, we’re sorry it took so long.  We’re here now.  We’ll get you home.”


End file.
